Chapter 5: The Fame That Fucks You

(Some women rise to fame. Others are born from fire, kissed by shadows, and crowned in lies.)

The flashing lights made her feel invincible.

The Golden Eclipse Awards were the most televised event of the year. Ava was a goddess on that stage—dripping in gold, every camera worshipping her every move. Her gown was metallic and barely-there, clinging to her body like liquid sin. The applause thundered as she held her trophy, smiling like she hadn't been screaming his name in a velvet-clad hallway just twenty-four hours ago.

"To the girl I was… the one no one believed in," she said into the mic. "This one's for you. The one who refused to be silenced."

The crowd cheered. The lights dazzled. The world adored her.

But none of them knew.

Underneath that polished glow, she was crumbling.

And he—he was watching. Always.

Midnight.

The award lay forgotten on the marble floor of her penthouse suite.

Damien's hand was around her throat, pushing her back against the mirror. Her gown lay in tatters, shattered glass on the floor from a broken perfume bottle that had nothing to do with clumsiness and everything to do with the madness between them.

"You looked beautiful tonight," he whispered against her neck. "All those men staring at you, imagining what it'd be like to fuck the golden girl."

Ava gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist as he lifted her.

"But only I know," he growled, voice rough. "Only I know how you beg when the lights go out. How you taste when you're sobbing my name into the sheets."

He didn't make love to her.

He claimed her.

Teeth. Tongue. Bruises blooming in the shape of his fingers.

The room was a battlefield of soft moans and savage hands. He kissed her like she was the last lie he ever wanted to believe. She clawed at his back like her pain could speak through her touch.

And when she shattered beneath him—eyes wild, tears and sweat mixing—he kissed her like she was broken glass and he didn't care how deep he bled.

Hours later.

She sat at the window, naked beneath his suit jacket, her award glinting in the moonlight.

"I should hate you," she whispered.

Damien sat behind her, lighting a cigarette, shadows draped across his sculpted chest. "You will."

She turned. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he picked up the black envelope she'd found earlier. "This," he said, tapping the ivory paper, "wasn't from me. But it's true."

Ava's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?"

He exhaled smoke slowly. "Your name, Ava… isn't the one you were born with."

Her blood turned to ice.

"You were hidden. Rewritten. Protected. And your fame?" Damien leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "It's not an accident. It's part of a story that began long before the cameras loved you."

Ava stood, wrapping the jacket tighter around herself. "You're playing a game."

He smiled—cold, devastating. "And you're the prize."

Meanwhile…

In a basement far from the lights, the man in the shadows spoke on the phone.

"She's unraveling."

The voice on the other end: female, clipped. "And Damien?"

"He's losing control."

"Good," she said. "Because when Ava remembers who she really is… she'll be more dangerous than all of us."

Cliffhanger:

Ava's phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Ask Damien about the fire in Venice. Ask him who really died that night.

Her breath hitched.

Because the fire in Venice…?

She'd been told it was a hotel accident when she was 10.

But in her dreams…

She'd seen herself walking out of that fire, dragging a boy with silver eyes behind her.

A boy who disappeared.

A boy who looked exactly like Damien.

To be continued…